


If I Only Could

by MastermindKiyondo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MastermindKiyondo/pseuds/MastermindKiyondo
Summary: If the air purifier had actually been a time machine like Monkuma said...Meddling with time can drive a man insane. At least, that's how it starts....





	1. Act I, Part I: If I Only Could

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a little out of left field, and I originally came up with the idea nearly three years ago. So, bear with me on this one.

The first thing he knew was that it was dark. The seemingly infinite darkness obscured every object in the room, hiding it from sight. Despite this, the field of blackness couldn’t obscure Taka’s thoughts. He stared into the abyss, thinking deeply. He was certainly in his room, in his bed, but could not remember for the life of him how exactly he’d happened to end up there. Perhaps he’d blacked out, or simply gone into a sort of catatonic autopilot, as he had been for the past few days. Either way, he was laying here, his mind clouded with desperation, longing, and grief.

 

Through his troubling thoughts came pieces of memory. A computer, he remembered, that housed what he believed to be the preserved, however digitized, souls of Chihiro and Mondo. He remembered feeling a rush of every emotion at once, and nothing more afterwards. With this in mind, he decided it was most likely he’d simply passed out, and was taken to his room by one of his classmates. The simplest solution was usually the best.

 

As Taka sat up in bed, he found that he was still fully dressed in his white uniform, even down to his black boots. How he’d not noticed that he was still wearing boots was beyond him, but it was the least puzzling thing at that moment in time. He’d suddenly recovered something crucial from the depths of his mind, a piece of information that could drastically improve, if not eradicate everything that currently ailed him. A memory of a large machine in the physics lab, that he very distinctly remembered Monokuma labelling a time machine. If only he could use it, he would be able to essentially bring Mondo back from the dead.

 

If it truly was a time machine, it would be an instantaneous relief. He slowly pulled himself out of bed, not quite caring that he was unkempt from both being asleep and days of neglecting his needs. It didn’t matter, nothing did. The only thing that was even worth caring about was that machine, and knowing whether what Monokuma had stated was the truth. That tiny sliver of hope was what prodded him forward, out of his room and into the hall, even though it was long past curfew. It had to be true. He wouldn’t allow any other outcome.

 

The halls were quiet, greatly amplifying the sound of his footsteps. He walked as if in a trance, not consciously thinking of the place he was going or the way to get there, but slowly stepping toward it like a reanimated corpse. In the back of his mind, he fully expected to be caught by Monokuma, but to his surprise, the wretched bear never appeared. He was alone, alone with the machine. Alone with his desperation to save his only friend from himself.

 

Nothing could truly prepare him for what he found. The machine looked a little different than what he remembered, but that wasn’t important. He moved toward a large steel door, his pale hand wrapping around the door handle. He gingerly slid it open, suddenly overcome with a need to be quiet. He slipped in through an opening just large enough to allow him inside. He was greeted with an array of panels, buttons and lights. He was drawn to a specific panel, and without thinking, began to press buttons on the adjacent numeric keypad. He had entered a date and time: midnight, the day before Chihiro’s murder. That was enough time, wasn’t it…?

 

Taka strode over to the door, sliding it shut once more, and latching it before pressing a rather prominent button below the panel where he’d entered the date, assuming somewhere in his clouded mind that it would start the machine. It seemed his assumption was correct, as the large machine whirred to life for a moment, then slowly cooled down. Was that all? Perhaps Monokuma had been lying. Why had he trusted that damned bear even for a second? He stepped out of the machine to find everything exactly as it had been when he’d entered. Anger and sadness welled up in his chest. He’d been lied to! He sank to his knees, tears beginning to fall down his face. The grief-stricken hall monitor curled up on the floor, and cried for what felt like hours until he felt himself falling asleep.

 

He was jolted awake by the morning announcement. Just hearing Monokuma’s voice was enough to anger him as the night’s events came back to him. He got to his feet, brushing himself off and starting to head to the cafeteria. He already knew what he’d find: nothing more than the remains of his classmates, and no Mondo. He walked in silence, entering the cafeteria with his dull eyes to the floor, and little awareness of his surroundings. That was, until he felt a familiar, large hand on his back. The life seemed to flood back into him from his touch. It hadn’t been a lie. He was alive. He could be saved, and he would save him.

 

Thoughts raced through his mind throughout the day. How could he truly save Mondo? Even if he led him away from Chihiro that night, what was keeping him from committing murder the next night, or even at a later date? With all outcomes considered in his broken mind, he came to one conclusion, and one alone. Chihiro had to be removed from the equation altogether. After all, if Chihiro was dead, Mondo could not possibly murder him. But, Taka was willing to sacrifice himself for the one person he truly cared for, and perhaps even loved.

 

He would murder Chihiro in Mondo’s place.


	2. Act I, Part II: I Can Save You

Taka had sternly convinced Mondo to go to bed early for his health. It felt like something he would say before his mind had started to deteriorate. He felt a little guilty as Mondo had no earthly idea what he was planning to do., but it disappeared as he watch Mondo leave. He’d be asleep long before Taka did anything to harm Chihiro.

He stepped into the cafeteria, meticulously searching through the kitchen. He opened every drawer in the room, rummaging through them until he found what he was looking for: a sharp, but easily concealable knife. He slipped it into his boot, positioning it in such a way that it wouldn’t cut or poke him as he walked. He strode to the locker room with purpose, his mind racing as he came closer to his destination. He sat down, relaxing and waiting quietly for Chihiro to come in, looking for the man he meant to save. Adrenaline began to course through his veins as he heard Chihiro ask him where Mondo had gone.

He calmly told him that Mondo had gone to bed, but he would be happy to talk with Chihiro about what was troubling him. He only half-listened to Chihiro as mad thoughts swirled in his head, and the urge to kill grew ever stronger. He had to save Mondo. It had to be this way. It could only be this way. Chihiro was starting to notice his strangely vacant expression, and Taka barely heard him ask if he was alright. When Taka didn’t answer him, he started to leave the locker room to go to bed. This was when Taka sprang into action.

He quickly snatched Chihiro’s arm, not hearing his begging as he pulled the knife from his boot. He gazed down at the smaller boy, who was staring at the knife and starting to cry. He didn’t feel him fighting to free himself, not even when he clawed the medal from his chest. Taka’s mind was filled with voices, all sounding similar to his own, but rougher. Perhaps it was an alternate version of himself that existed only in his head. Without hesitation, he plunged the knife into Chihiro’s chest, not hearing his screams. He ripped out the knife, flinging blood across the room and onto his uniform. Once Chihiro had dropped to the floor, he continued to savagely stab him, led on by the voice in his head. 

When he finally stopped, he stared down at the body with cold, dark eyes. He had done what he had come back to do. Mondo was safe, but he himself would still have to face the trial and execution instead. Despite being faced with death, he was strangely calm; he was willing to die for Mondo. He’d always been willing to since he’d been found guilty. The voice kept speaking to him, telling him what he’d done was all he could’ve done, and it had been done well.

Taka walked to the bathroom to wash his bloody hands and the knife he’d taken from the kitchen. When he felt his hands were thoroughly cleaned, he looked up to face his reflection. However, the face he gazed into was not truly his own. It was him, but with bright white hair and wild, flaming eyes. He was sure he’d seen the strange version of himself smirk before he blinked, and his reflection became his once more. He shook his head. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation. He left the knife in the sink, going to his room to sleep. He would deal with the repercussions tomorrow.

It would not take long for his classmates to find Chihiro’s nearly unrecognizable corpse. Taka didn’t bother to feign surprise or shock, as he’d become numb to it all. He ignored the strange and suspicious looks. He knew what they knew. His medal was laying near the body, almost symbolic, he thought; how ironic that a medal awarded to him for his outstanding morals laid in such a sinful scene. But it was all meaningless to Taka now. He existed as if he were walking in a dream, his heart and soul black, cold and empty. 

His odd mannerisms hardly changed as he stood in the courtroom with all eyes on him. They all knew who had committed the heinous act of murder, but they would first need to prove it. He hardly listened to their accusations, only looking at Mondo occasionally. He seemed upset that they felt Taka had done such a horrible thing. It was out of character for him, wasn’t it? Oh, if only they knew what he had seen and experienced before he came back. If they only knew, they would understand.

Eventually, all the evidence was gathered against him. He didn’t react with shock when Naegi formally accused him of the murder, but with a smile. So they’d figured it all out, hadn’t they? He, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, had committed a brutal and unwarranted homicide. He spoke softly, but clearly, stating to them what he’d done, and why he’d done it. Of course, he’d done it to save Mondo, so it was a noble and certainly a moral act. He could see the disbelief in their eyes as they listened to his insane words, the ravings of a madman. It was all meaningless, even the look of horror in Mondo’s eyes. He watched them all begin the voting, knowing full well that they were all against him. With a soft smile, he entered his own name, accepting his fate, his sacrifice. He knew it would not be long until he met his end.

Sure enough, he soon found himself being dragged away by Monokuma. The last thing he saw before the beginning of his end was the look of horror and shock in Mondo’s lilac eyes. If he only knew the truth. If he only could tell him, show him, anything to prove that this was not just an act of madness, that it was an act of love instead. His focus would shift to his starting execution. Cheers. Confetti. A precession in his honor. How utterly ironic. He felt nothing at all, even as he looked slightly upwards to notice Monokuma with a rifle, firing a single bullet into his heart. However, he felt no pain in his chest. The excruciating, mortal wound was in his head.

The scene faded away, replaced with a drastically different one. He was cold, shaking, and gasping for breath as he laid on a concrete floor in a pool of his own blood. More painful than the wound was the fact, the reality that nothing he had experienced was real. It had all been a dream, or a hallucination. Mondo was dead, and had still been dead all this time. The time machine had been an air purifier. And he was dying. As his vision faded to black, he thought he could hear a voice in his head gasping for breath as well. But he had little time to do more than remember the strange man he’d seen in the mirror in his reflection’s place, and the voice he’d heard. The rest was shrouded in mystery and grief as he fell into the soft, dark embrace of death.

A body had been discovered.


	3. Act II, Part I: I Could Watch

The first thing he ever experienced was the sensation that his skin, no, his very being was on fire. His blood boiled with rage and every other passionate emotion that could possibly be experienced at one time. He was staring into the face of a boy that was a head shorter than himself, with scared hazel eyes and brown hair that seemed to form an antenna at the very top of his head. He looked like a goddamned idiot, he thought, with his blazer pulled unceremoniously over a wrinkled green sweatshirt. A wide smirk spread across his features; how could someone have such little respect for something as simple as dress code. As expected, the boy seemed to shrink away, becoming even shorter. But yet, he was still asking him questions he had no answers to.

How bold could one be, still standing in front of an enraged man set literally ablaze by his own intense feelings, and calling him by a name that was not his own. Taka. He hadn’t the slightest idea who the name belonged to, though he felt connected to him in some way. He did not have a name himself, but that was of little importance. Thus, when he was prompted to give a name for himself, he responded that he was only that. Himself. He had no need for a name, but his previous answer seemed to be unsatisfactory. One could not only be himself in the world he found himself in, could it? Nothing could ever just be that simple. His eyes narrowed as he spat the first name he could think of: Kiyondo. Now that he thought of it, it had half of his beloved kyoudai’s name…

It wasn’t worth his time to answer any more of the idiot boy’s questions. Yes, he preferred vulgarity. Yes, he was on fire, burning with passion and anger. Kiyondo felt this was obvious enough to not warrant a question. But, he would soon remember that he must be an idiot, very much so, if he thought that wearing a sweatshirt under an open blazer was acceptable as a uniform. With a ‘hmph’, he turned and marched off, ignoring a stoic girl with long lavender colored hair. He didn’t want to speak to or even acknowledge her, though he did emit a chuckle when he heard her scold the idiot boy. He deserved it for doing utterly stupid things.

Kiyondo rejected any sort of social interaction, lashing out viciously at whoever dared speak to him. As memories that did not belong to him came flooding into his brain, he realized he harbored a burning hatred toward his classmates whose heat only rivaled that of the sun’s core. But surely the plasma within the sun he’d never seen the light of had no reason to hate anyone. His classmates had voted to kill his kyoudai, he knew just that much. Certainly, it was enough to snap all of their necks with his bare hands, especially that idiot boy in the sweatshirt. He had just enough restraint to not commit such an act, however much he wanted to. If anyone should have their neck, or perhaps their whole spine snapped into two, it should be the sick bastard that was controlling that twisted, two-toned bear.

With that in mind, he created an impossible, insane plan. He was going to claw his way to the next floor, and then the next, until he found whoever was ultimately responsible for Mondo’s death. If he had to bash his way through a barrier, he would, no matter how many of his own bones he had to break to get in. He climbed to the third floor, gazing ahead at the barrier to the fourth floor. He was determined to do everything within his power to break through. As soon as he pressed a hand to the barrier, he heard the hated bear pop up behind him. He growled, sounding almost like an animal as he turned to face the ursine robot.

What it began to say surprised and intrigued him. The bear was offering him...his kyoudai in exchange for not bothering the barrier. The thought, the hope of the return of his kyoudai was all he required to step away from the blocked stairway, and nod like he’d been brainwashed. He wanted nothing more than to see his kyoudai again. The bear cackled ran off to retrieve what Kiyondo hoped was his kyoudai. He leaned against the wall, waiting patiently. He only stood straight when he heard the bear returning, with…a container. The remains of his kyoudai, which had been pulverized and liquefied into butter. The cursed bear set the container down at his feet, and Kiyondo slowly lowered himself to his knees. This… This had been nothing but a cruel joke at his expense!

The bear roared with maniacal, high pitched laughter that made Kiyondo want to tear it to shreds before stating it would leave the two of them alone. Once the robot had pranced away, he looked down at the container, staring intently at it. He and his kyoudai were together again, weren’t they? Perhaps it hadn’t been a joke after all. Perhaps he was meant to become closer to his only friend. As he thought deeply and stared at the container, he hadn’t noticed the drool trickling from his mouth and down his chin. There was only one thing he could do to truly make them one.

His fingers curled around the lip of the container’s lid, and he gingerly opened it to see its contents. It was most definitely butter, but it had a strange pinkish tint and metallic scent. Kiyondo assumed it was all the iron in Mondo’s blood and body that made the smell. He stared for quite a while before he could no longer restrain himself. He plunged his hand into the container, scooping out a large handful of the butter and forcing it into his mouth. The taste was strange, to say the least; it was a mixture of meat, metal, and of course, the butter itself. Certainly an acquired taste, but something he was happy to savagely devour until he could not physically consume any more. He’d hardly made a dent into the large amount of butter, but that was no matter. He could survive on this for days, and he was willing to. If only to bring them closer together, to make them truly one and the same.

His mad thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone shifting nearby. He looked up to find the same stone-faced girl with the lavender hair, watching him. His lip curled into a snarl; realizing she might have been watching him the entire time. After observing him in silence, she turned and strode down the hall, leaving him to his thoughts and solidifying his need to snap her neck. He licked the remaining grease off of his hands before closing the container, lifting it when he got to his feet and carrying it with him as he walked after the girl that was stalking him.

He would get her for interrupting them. And he’d do it soon.


	4. Act II, Part II: If I Weren't Being Watched

Kiyondo carried the container to his dorm, holding it almost lovingly. He couldn’t help but check over his shoulder for his stalker every so often to ensure she wasn’t behind him. Once he was safe inside his room, he locked the door and let himself relax. He sat the container on his dresser before sitting on the edge of his bed and beginning to unlace his boots. He felt angry with the girl that was following him. If he found her watching him again, he’d kill her with his bare hands. He’d get rid of her.

He laid back on his bed, deep in thought. If he focused hard enough, he could hear a voice. A voice quite like his own, but softer. A voice whose words were difficult to discern. Perhaps it was simply his mind playing tricks on him, but he thought he could hear someone else’s thoughts. The racing mind of a man that was inches from committing murder. He closed his eyes, and everything came to him at once. He saw his kyoudai meet his grisly end. He saw the other, who he assumed was the same Taka the idiot boy had been referring to. His face was blank, his eyes lifeless and dull. A walking corpse, pushing itself toward a large machine and stepping inside. Kiyondo watched this Taka reunite with his kyoudai, and felt horrible burning jealously swelling in his chest. How could he be so happy while he, Kiyondo, lived in misery and rage?

He began to speak to him, whispering under his breath. On the outside, he was simply murmuring to himself, but on the inside, Taka was listening to him. He would commit this act if Kiyondo had a say in it at all. He led him to the kitchen, watching as he scoured for a murder weapon, and prodding him toward the perfect knife. It was as if he were not only connected, but in near complete control of his other half. He could sense the other’s desperation, his need to kill one to save another. He watched and listened as Taka’s thoughts became more nonsensical with each passing moment. He was going mad. Kiyondo began to speak louder as Taka stood, facing a much smaller boy. His voice became a shout, further forcing the madman to carry out his horrible plan. He would do it. He would force him to do it! He had to do it, for his kyoudai! 

The sickening, wet noise of a knife plunging itself in and out of flesh was the only thing that made him fall silent. Blood spattered the walls and the floor. Taka’s hands and the edges of his sleeves were stained a dark red. A crushing silence filled the room and Taka’s mind. Kiyondo realized at that moment just how far from reality Taka had gotten. A man who was once a strict disciplinarian, a moral compass, had become a merciless, remorseless madman. It both terrified and intrigued Kiyondo to no end, how quickly a man could could change for the worse. He didn’t speak, but simply observed him as he slowly began to walk toward a bathroom.

Kiyondo stood, compelled to go to the bathroom in his dorm. He had a strong feeling that if he looked into the mirror, that he would see his other half looking back. He stood in front of the sink, seeing only the white hair and fiery eyes of his own face. He looked down, running the faucet to splash some water on his face. He felt strangely sick. Perhaps it had been all of the butter he’d eaten earlier. He cupped his hands, filling them with cold water and splashing it on his pale face. The flames in his eyes made an angry hissing noise, and steam rose from them. He gave his head a little shake, and looked into the mirror again. There he was. The cold, dead eyes of the mad Taka, who still had flecks of blood on his face. He felt a smirk cross his face. If only he could know who was truly in control.

He stepped back from the mirror, striding out of the bathroom, then out of his dorm. He wanted to see the computer again, the same that had fueled the fire that led to his birth. He wanted to see his kyoudai’s face once more, and perhaps stare at it until he wasted away. Kiyondo drooled at the thought of being able to love his kyoudai’s image forever. In fact, he longed for such an opportunity. His footsteps echoed as he entered the locker room. His eyes darted around, looking for the open locker that housed the precious electronic device. His eyes widened when he only found an empty locker.

Rage instantly coursed through his veins. Who could have taken the last remnants of his kyoudai?! Who could be so selfish and cold? He crouched down, peering inside the locker; there was a note laying inside. He slowly pulled out the folded paper, reading its contents. He breathed a sigh of relief. The computer had only been relocated to a storage closet. Good, he thought; he could still visit and stay until he was nothing more than bones and dust. He stood, sliding the note into his pocket and turning on his heel to leave. He visibly flinched when he found the idiot boy less than a foot from him. How dare he sneak up on him…

The idiot boy spoke, his voice wavering ever so slightly as he told Kiyondo not to go to the storage closet. Anger flashed across Kiyondo’s eyes. Not go and see his kyoudai? He must be just as mad as Taka. His response was a growl; he would certainly go to that closet, no matter what this short shit had to say to him. When he started to march out of the locker room, the idiot boy’s small hand caught his arm. Something snapped in Kiyondo’s head; he whipped around, the flames in his eyes glowing a blinding red, then white, obscuring his irises entirely. He snatched the idiot boy by his neck, and without mercy, began to twist his head. Loud cries and the grinding of bones filled his ears as his victim became too overwhelmed by pain to struggle. With a sickening snap, the idiot boy, with his blazer and sweatshirt, and his strange antenna-like spike in his hair, grew still and silent. Kiyondo dropped his lifeless corpse on the floor, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

He left the body behind, feeling pleased with himself. Now that he was out of the way, he could go and see his kyoudai’s trapped, digital soul. He took long strides, wanting and needing to get to the closet as fast as he possibly could. His mind was filling with the hope of being able to see his kyoudai forever. He dragged his hands down the wood of the door when he reached it, and wrapped his hand around the handle. Kiyondo pulled open the door and rushed in with mad excitement in his eyes as he searched the closet. His excitement quickly became desperation as he ransacked the room, turning over everything until it was a crazed jumble of objects. He breathed heavily, tears streaming down his face. It wasn’t here. He wasn’t here!

His breaths quickened when a shadow fell over him. He turned just in some to see the girl with the lavender hair swing something at his head with little warning. Excruciating pain shot from the front of his head, immobilizing him as he arched his back, unable to even utter a cry of pain. He fell to his knees, then sank to the floor. He laid on the concrete, his body twitching and jerking uncontrollably. His vision was long gone, but he could hear footsteps leaving him behind. Leaving him to suffer and die. As he struggled to draw in breath, he heard another doing the same. He couldn’t comprehend that he was dying; all of his senses were fading away. He was fading away, leaving Taka in his place.

Perhaps he hadn’t been in control.


	5. Act III, Part I: I Couldn't Rest

The darkness of death was soft and silent. It was a peaceful place that Taka never wanted to leave, even though he was hardly aware he was enjoying such a thing at all. He was beyond physical pain, and beyond the feelings that spurred the actions that had led to his untimely demise. In fact, he was beyond the fact that he was deceased at all, and not a thing could make him care for the things he’d done and felt. Nothing could remove him from his world of peace, his own place to slowly fade from existence. Or so he thought.

Taka felt a gentle tug at one of his feet. He could not see what had touched him, and he was too relaxed and at peace to be bothered. The tugs got stronger, disturbing his peace. Anxiety filled his chest as he felt himself beginning to move downwards. He felt a burning sensation on his skin. What was happening? Was he being dragged to hell itself for his sinful act? Taka finally moved, clawing blindly into the dark. He was in pain; his skin was burning and his mind began to suffer as his mad, desperate thoughts returned. He screamed, but only silence was heard. If only he could escape from the clutches of death itself. He began to claw more furiously, gazing up at a pinprick of light in the distance. Whatever it was, wherever it led, he wanted to be there.

He slowly climbed toward the light, battling the tugs at his feet every inch of the way. As he did so, he saw flashes of memories that did not belong to him. The butter. Naegi’s death. The lavender haired girl, Kirigiri, stalking him, and eventually ending his life. He grew angrier with each vision, and his very soul grew restless. How could he think of fading away, or being pulled down into oblivion? These people, his classmates; they were dead to him. He remembered how they’d turned against Mondo, and how they’d turned against him. His essence filled with hatred, along with the same numbness that he’d felt when he’d believed he was committing murder. 

Those feelings coursed through him with such force that he felt that pieces of his body, no, his soul, falling away and tumbling into the void. The mysterious force that had been dragging him down loosened its grip and released his leg. Perhaps it had been satisfied by the shattered pieces of his very being. Without its constant pulling, he was able to finally reach the light. He reached inside, longing to be in its depths. He pulled himself through, and felt a strange cold surround him as he fell into the white abyss. His thoughts slowly faded into nothing as he fell gently onto a hard surface.

His eyes shot open. For a moment, he could not comprehend where he was. All he could see was a bright blue, and he felt a sort of plasticized material sticking to any exposed skin. After a moment of silent, deep thought, it came to him that he was wrapped in what appeared to be a tarp. Why his supposedly lifeless body had been bundled up in an industrial material was beyond his understanding, but he put it out of his mind. He had other things to attend to. With some difficulty, Taka crawled out of the tarp and pushed himself to his feet. As he did so, he could feel cooling blood run down his face and drip from his chin. He reached up to feel the mortal wound in his head. Small, jagged pieces of his shattered skull poked his fingers, but he could feel no pain. The numb feeling was not only in his mind, as the nerves in his body were no longer sending pain signals. But, that was fine by him.

Taka began to notice other things about his body, like how utterly stiff it was. It was a chore to move, though he could still manage it with some effort. He assumed that his body was simply reacting to being lifeless; after all, his skin was a pale white with a faint, blue tinge. No more blood ran through his veins; what had not spilled from the open wound in his head had settled elsewhere in his body. He took ragged, wheezing breaths, but his body took in no oxygen. He was a corpse, a dead man who had clawed his way out of hell and into a world to which he no longer belonged.

However, this was not of any concern to Taka. Yes, he was dead, but he had a chance to escape. More importantly, he had a chance to get back at the classmates who had done nothing for him or Mondo. In his eyes, they were no longer his friends. They were his enemies, and when he was finished with them, he would go after the greatest enemy of all: the mastermind. 

Then, and only then, would he allow himself to fade.


	6. Act III, Part II: I'll Destroy You

An announcement was made: the trial would begin in fifteen minutes. The trial for his own murder, Taka thought to himself. How interesting would it be, how horrifying, if he simply appeared and stood in his place as he had for the last trial? He forced his lukewarm corpse forward, still suffering from the stiffness of rigor mortis. But he knew from his earlier studies that this was temporary, and his body would relax once it began to decay. But, that would not be for a while, and for now he could manage with his tense body.

He staggered down the hallway, listening to his own deep groans and gasps for useless breath. His numb body felt as if it was no longer his own; he stepped oddly, picking his feet up higher than necessary to walk. Taka continued on to the courtroom, a metallic scent filling his nose. He knew that smell: blood. It was very strong, but he saw no blood on the floor, and the blood on his face was beginning to dry. Perhaps, as a living corpse, he could detect the scent of the blood that was still pumping through the bodies of his living classmates.

The scent grew more potent as he reached the courtroom, and sure enough, he could hear the voices of his remaining classmates. They were ruthlessly arguing over the case, easily heard through the door. He pressed a rigid, white hand against the door, pushing it open. The room fell deathly silent, save for his own wheezes and moans, as the survivors laid eyes on him. Their eyes widened with shock; how could someone with a mortally crushed skull be alive? They took quiet, yet panicked breaths as they studied his pale skin, his blueish-purple lips, his clouded eyes… None of them believed that he had become the living dead.

Some of his classmates began to yell at Monokuma, assuming it was a sick joke. The wretched bear he hated so much denied everything. Reanimating a corpse was beyond its power, and against its rules. Hah… His days of following rules, whether that of the academy, or the laws of nature itself, were long over. Lifting one of his feet, he started to half limp, half drag himself to the place where he was meant to stand. His hand curled around the stand that held his image, desecrated with a bloody X, and he pulled it aside to allow himself to stand where he belonged. He gazed out at the faces of those who were dead to him, his lifeless eyes refusing to blink. It would be their time soon.

With the bear’s instruction, the trial continued, and all of their eyes fell on him. He was the victim, so he should know who killed him. He opened his mouth, speaking in a breathy voice that was more of a low, guttural moan. He only spoke two words: the first and last name of his killer. Kyoko Kirigiri. The memory of her swinging an unknown object at his head flashed in his broken mind as his classmates murmured amongst themselves. Kirigiri? It didn’t seem likely to them, even after Naegi’s unexpected murder. Another groan escaped Taka’s lips, carrying words that were few and far between, but explained his deceased other half’s last moments.

They all looked at Kirigiri, who remained as stoic and stone-faced as ever. Her eyes were cold and piercing, glaring at the living cadaver. His faded eyes stared back, daring her to confess what she’d done to him and his alternate personality; to tell them how she’d stolen the last scraps of hope from his soul and destroyed his body. The room’s silence seemed endless as their eyes locked into a knowing, bitter stare. While her eyes were still fixed on his, she spoke, accusing him of the murder of Naegi, and that the man known as Kiyondo had been dangerous.

Anger filled his body. While it was true that Kiyondo had killed Naegi, he understood why he had done it. His second half had been overwhelmed with emotions. Emotions that spurred desperation. Desperation that spurred violence. She had taken the last thing that Kiyondo had hope for. Tears spilled from his dead eyes. The utter nerve of her, he thought to himself, the nerve she must have to attempt to justify her actions to the face of her victim. His damaged brain had cleared of everything but her. Her cold face. Her apathetic words. They infuriated him.

Taka’s body moved seemingly without his instruction, climbing over the rail and moving toward her. He felt his hands grasp her neck, his already pale knuckles white as his fingers locked in place, aided by his rigor mortis. He felt her go limp in his grip, and his fingers digging into her flesh. His consciousness hardly surfaced as he tore at her with unfathomable, unholy rage. He wouldn’t stop until he was sure she was destroyed like he had been. The mad corpse dropped her body, and began clawing his way up to the throne where the loathed, revolting bear sat, watching him with just as much shock as his classmates.

What had he become?


	7. Act III, Part III: I Loved You So

Taka found himself laying down in sunbathed grass, his body relaxed and his heart beating. He was wearing a clean, white uniform, complete with the medal pinned to its chest. Had it all been a dream? Perhaps there had been no killing game at all, and he was simply enjoying a warm afternoon after his classes. Alive, and not damned to the pits of hell or trapped in his own rigid, lifeless body. It was peaceful here. The world around him cared for nothing but his comfort, and relieved him of his worries.

He heard a light snore beside him, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was not alone. He turned his head, finding none other than Mondo next to him. His kyoudai was lost in a peaceful slumber, and it wasn’t Taka’s place to wake him. How could he, after everything he’d supposedly seen and done? Instead of moving to wake him, he quietly shifted himself until he was gently leaning against him. He listened to his breathing, relishing in the fact that they were both alive and together. They could be happy now. They could be happy forever.

A soft murmur entered Taka’s thoughts. The voice was familiar; it was similar to his own, but had a slight harshness that set it apart. He strained his memory, trying to recall to whom the voice belonged. He felt as though he was connected to the man who spoke, despite his words being unintelligible. He blinked when he realized the voice wasn’t in his head. It was coming from a distance instead, which was why he couldn’t make out words. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position, looking around.

A man with white hair and fiery eyes was walking toward them. A man he had seen before; he was the one he’d seen in the mirror, and the one that had died with him. But now he knew his name: Kiyondo. He called his other half’s name, a grin on his face as he waved to him. Kiyondo gave a brief wave back, approaching and sitting down next to Taka and the sleeping Mondo. Taka took a good look at Kiyondo’s face, noticing features he hadn’t seen from his appearance in the mirror. He had the same long bottom eyelashes that Mondo did. Perhaps himself and Mondo really had been fused to create him.

Kiyondo gave the same, almost smug smile that he’d seen before. It was endearing in a way. The man moved over to Mondo, shaking him a bit to wake him. Mondo grumbled as he stirred and started to sit up, asking Kiyondo what had been so important that he had to wake him. Taka gently touched Mondo’s arm, telling him that he was back, and that he would stay with him and Kiyondo forever. He loved them dearly, like they were his own brothers. Seeing them well again was a gift that he thought he would never possess. He was overwhelmed with such joy that tears fell down his face. The two stood, reaching out to help Taka to his feet. They told him that they’d been waiting to take him somewhere.

Taka walked with them, more happy tears spilling down his face. As they traversed the field, a warm, golden glow began to fill the horizon and surround them. It was the most beautiful sunset Taka had ever seen, and he felt even more overjoyed as he gazed into the endless colors of the sky. It was this that distracted him as he bashed into an invisible wall. A mysterious force had pushed him back while Kiyondo and Mondo passed him. They looked back, confusion on their features as their bodies acquired the same warm glow. Other glowing people stood beyond them: his fallen classmates, most importantly Naegi and Chihiro. They seemed peaceful, and not at all angry with the two. Their murders, their sinful actions, had been forgiven by their victims.

The world behind him grew dark and cold, stopping at the barrier between himself and his brothers. His face grew pale when he remembered feeling pieces of his soul falling into the dark before he broke the ultimate law: the law of nature itself. His soul was impure, corrupted, and broken. His tears became those of despair as he lost all determination, all of his reasons to still persist after his untimely death. He felt the ground underneath his feet open up, and he fell, watching the two people he loved get smaller and disappear into the darkness. He could feel his soul fading away into the endless abyss, disintegrating just like his hope. 

The last wispy remnants of Taka’s soul rose into the black, fading away. He was gone.


	8. Epilogue

The dilapidated, barricaded Hope’s Peak Academy stood in a wasteland bathed in red from the despair-filled sky. Armed Future Foundation members surrounded the area as the pale, traumatized survivors stepped out into a world that barely resembled the one they remembered. Some of the surrounding members took the survivors to a nearby hospital, hoping to get them somewhere warm and safe, while a few others entered the building, unsure what they would find. The school was dark and silent. Its halls and rooms held very little of interest. They thoroughly swept the building, determining that it contained no trapped survivors, and recovering the preserved remains of the fallen. However, one student had not been accounted for.

When they began to approach the courtroom, a strange smell filled their noses. It grew more putrid as they approached, and grew unbearable as they neared the door. A brave man pushed the door open, holding his breath as he entered the large room, discovering the source of the horrible scent. The rotting carcass of a man with short, black hair was suspended, hanging limply from the nearly fifty spears that had plunged through his body. He wore a stained white uniform with black boots, and his decaying face still possessed the remains of prominent, bushy eyebrows.

It was the missing student: Kiyotaka Ishimaru.


End file.
